Solace In Wasteland

Where the land meets the painted sky, I’m the writing on the wall.
Where the heart meets on the corner of some avenue,
Fall in love with the smell of dead ends and cold coffee;
This isn’t living, it’s a chain reaction in the back of my head.
I am a speck in a long line of seven billion names
But if you line us all up and look down from space
I am a slim profile, bipedal stamp on a world that walks lonely.
Let’s say you blot out the sun with a paintbrush,
Now I am nothing but puppet held to the ground with steel nails.
Stare into the deceptions of utopic Monet,
Achieve this perfection in meticulous brush strikes of one and zero
As we march in a line of solidarity for a sweet fleeting moment.
Stab old dominion in the back, squirm in discomfort of the free,
Exquisite chaos is a norm as the poet picks up a sword for war
And the pen lays in feigned and foreign reverence.
Knock enemy out with punchline, sing sonnet shield upon eyes
Flee nuclear adoration and edict of disarray flowing from glow-book,
Read until you can bite the bullet so hard that skull dances with cobwebs.
                                        
Strength is a whim of aerosol steel applied to purest bone;
Titanium heart pumps to cloaked clock beat on the third second.
Minds cave in at posed questions, not gyrating boulders 
So you can stack personas like a tessellation of morning warriors.
You would cling to your bed sheets every dawn too
If you knew what lay beyond our thinning atmosphere.
Urban cowboys are found on the wrong side of the sunset;
Lone wolf swallows pride inflicted by distorted epiphany.
The old, smoking guns chant tenor requiems into fleeting ears.
Fork over the blood money, burn it to dry enlightened synapse;
Roofs don’t keep us warm, just safe from speckled stars.
Fear what makes you small, crush the skyline under pinkie,
Love the underdog, pose the question with a wink of sunken eye.
Let me paint you into this context, welcoming solace as souls watch
From afar; they hover torn from the ephemeral body,
On a wavelength of a summer born.
Play mine like a corroded string, gently and with silk gloves.
Please catch my breath for me.

 

I am a massive nuisance in a long line of too many names to count
And maybe the gravity of society feeding my mind leaves it blank slate.
Look beyond the walls that were built in front of our eyes,
Smiley-face stickers patched to every twisted vision.
Look into your reality, old castle dangling pixel-light canon,
Asphyxiated sibilance rings off of priests texting God.
Half the universe ended yesterday trying to save a goner
And the other half was born into paper mache towns.
My soul is the pistol but my heart is the silencer,
So please don’t tell my mind that it has to be the bullet.
My eyes are the aim, focus, and repeat towards every sorrowing grin.
Why rise up to fight when we can lie flatter than the paper
That blows away with the wind?
Cares are but swaying palms sticking up from disgruntled firescape,
We are but faltering footsteps on a path that begs halting.
Welcome to solace in disintegration, emotions not included.
Wipe my tears and rub the salt into the wound,
I won't speak;
You are right where I want you.






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J.M.daCruzThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 31 at 8:07 pm
This is so beautiful, i wish i had the words to explain how so "Why rise up and fight when we can lie flatter than the paper that blows away with the wind?" You have such talent
 
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